


Six Times Thor and the Avengers Pissed Off Loki

by Sporadic_Writer



Series: Nature of Brotherhood [2]
Category: The Avengers
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 13:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6706537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sporadic_Writer/pseuds/Sporadic_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's not going to be replaced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Times Thor and the Avengers Pissed Off Loki

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote and posted this on LJ in 2012, and I am just archiving it here.

Status of work: Complete.  
Disclaimer: I don't own this.  
Characters and/or pairings: No proper pairings. This is meant to be humor and fluff. And platonic bonding among the Avengers.  
Rating: PG-13. Just this one moment. Or two.  
Warnings, kinks & contents: Well, there's drinking, swearing...a brief sex joke. It's really pretty tame. Just in case, I wanted to mention that this story does take place after the movie, so be aware of that if you're worried about potential spoilers.  
Length: Roughly 5,893.

A/N: I never expected to write for the Avengers fandom so soon since I have a Sherlock WIP and an Inception WIP, which had been keeping me occupied. Then I got bit by the Five Times...Bug, and it mutated into a Six Times...Bug.

Summary: I actually like Thor quite a bit, but I get the feeling that he's a bit too much like the Jock stereotype for people, so I tried to explore him in some depth, and I also wanted to drive Loki bonkers for amusement. Loki hates Thor so much for bringing up their being brothers, so what would happen if Thor started being all fraternal with the Avengers?

 

 

The Context:

“Like training wheels?” Steve asked, frowning in perplexity at the revelation.

Thor gestured vaguely, his forehead scrunched as he tried to put Asgardian concepts into Midgardian words. “Yes, that would be the equivalent. Children first learning the arts have certain restrictions put on them to ensure that any magic that goes awry would be minor and temporary. Such has been done to Lok as punishment for his misdeeds.”

“So that means that Loki can't do more damage than a two-week old kitty?” Clint asked. “We won't have to worry about him for the next hundred years or so?”

Thor nodded emphatically. “My lady mother herself put the binding on Loki. As she was the one to teach him the arts, she is very familiar with his attempts to circumvent the traditional methods. She would have taken into account any of his trickery.”

“But he can still come to Earth?” Phil asked, cell at the ready to update Fury about the situation.

Thor was quiet for a moment. “He can. My father hopes that spending time on Midgard as a peaceful man, even if forced, will persuade Loki of the error of his former ways. I have enjoyed my time on Midgard; mayhap Loki will also come to see the benefits of spending time away from Asgard and learning to create himself anew.”

Stopping his ostentatious armor polishing, Tony broke into the somber mood. “Hey, let's not be downers here. We kicked his arrogant ass once, and we can do it again.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “If Iron Man thinks so, then the rest of us have no problems.”

“Oh, someone's asking for a smack down,” Tony shot back. “Bruce, you be scorekeeper. I don't trust the rest of these mavericks.”

“Okay, but you can't come crying if Natasha breaks a bone,” Bruce said agreeably. Tony gasped in utter outrage at the implications, and the conversation devolved from there.

 

Thor and Phil: Deception

“I will never understand you, Loki. You speak in riddles, you play tricks; your eyes say one thing, and your lips swear another. And yet, brother, I do believe that I will always know you.”

Living together didn't mean they felt comfortable with each other. They had each other's backs for the most part out in the field, and the scare from Phil's death, albeit temporary, had beaten the importance of teamwork into their heads.

Unfortunately, they still had certain habits they couldn't break: Tony stayed in his lab downstairs; Bruce hid in his lab upstairs; Steve liked to brood alone; Clint and Natasha would disappear together for hours and come back filled with adrenaline; and Thor felt ashamed enough about Loki that he made near daily visits to Jane.

Phil figured it was up to him to give them all a collective kick in the behind. As one of the few to enjoy a normal family life before he joined SHIELD, he had a good idea of how to get so many disparate personalities to cohere.

“Scrabble?” Tony echoed incredulously before turning to Steve. “Hey, Cap, you play Scrabble before? Or is it after your time?”

Phil noted how the possibly innocuous question hit Steve like a dart: the man straightened in his seat, and his words were clipped as he answered. “We didn't have that game yet, and anyway, we didn't have the money for it.” Before anyone could feel really awkward, he added, “But I'm a real quick learner.”

“I don't like Scrabble,” Clint complained. “I played once with Natasha, and she tried to bite my head off when I wouldn't let her use foreign words.”

“They're still words, aren't they?” Natasha retorted. Apparently, that game was still a sore subject; Phil had been hoping that Natasha and Clint could come in as a pair, but they had their fair share of tension, and today looked like a bad one.

“We'll go over the rules and make sure everyone agrees first,” Phil reminded them mildly. “And if Natasha wants to use Russian, then you can use Norwegian, Clint.”

Thor was listening with great interest, and he seemed to be the easiest sell. “What is this game Scrabble? Will we have prizes? I recall that my br—a...friend of mine won a finely wrought lamp after he knocked all the apples from the tree.” The last words were a mumble, and Thor seemed to fall into a subdued mood.

“No prizes. At least not for the first time. We'll play the game just to have fun,” Phil answered, keeping an eye on Dr. Banner, who seemed a few minutes from rubbing his temples and possibly transforming into the Hulk and stomping everyone flat.

To his surprise, Bruce looked up and smiled broadly. “That's my favorite game. My brothers and I used to play it all the time. I hope you all like a challenge. I used to beat them all with a score in the hundreds—and I'm not bragging.”

They all turned around to stare. “In the hundreds? Is that even possible?” Natasha wondered, apparently forgetting her anger and sharing a dubious look with Clint.

A spark of competition glowed in Tony's eyes, and Steve's face became tight with determination not to let his generation down.

Feeling satisfied, Phil opened the Toys R' Us bag and emptied six Scrabble boxes onto the floor. “Okay, I'm going to make the mugs of hot cocoa, and you guys will each open a box and mix all the tiles together.” With his back turned to the others, Phil smiled as he walked to the kitchen and heard the Avengers start rummaging loudly and arguing quietly over the rulebook.

The game lasted really late that night, and Phil was stacking away the mugs in a cupboard to keep them safe until the next Scrabble Night next month. He heard the quiet steps behind him, and he closed the cupboard gently. “Did you enjoy the game?” he asked.

Thor nodded, but his usual smile was absent, and he had an air of making a confession of some sort. “I feel that we have not shown our gratitude for your return to us. We dishonored you with our reluctance to indulge in your favored game.”

Phil shrugged. “I grew up in a three bedroom house with three brothers around the same age and cousins living right next door. Sometimes the best way to take care of some friction is to let it all out in a medium where there won't be any bloodshed.”

Thor looked at him shrewdly. “It bodes well for you, Son of Coul, that your nature has such subtleties.”

“It is a gift,” Thor added earnestly, misinterpreting Phil's surprise. “I have not always appreciated such discernment, but that is my folly. I have learned much from Midgard and from you, my friends.”

For once, Thor was the one who got patted fondly on the back.

 

Phil sighed at the empty shelf before him; one convenience store out of donettes was a disappointing coincidence. Two convenience stores, all within walking distance of the Tower, was a grudge from a demigod.

He could feel the cool, yet boiling, stare aimed at his back. Maybe Loki could still turn invisible despite the restrictions on his powers. The Asgardians seemed quite open; possibly they didn't care about voyeurism.

Phil contemplated confronting Loki, but then he remembered just how that spear felt as it entered his chest. He took the higher ground and walked away. He'd take the edge off his craving with some donut holes instead, or maybe he'd take the car and see just how far Loki's influence extended.

Well, he mused to himself, at least Loki wasn't doing any damage. In fact, he was saving Phil's midsection from a spare tire. He wasn't sure why Loki was targeting him, but it all smacked of something petty, so Phil would think about it later and grab some much needed breakfast now.

 

Thor and Tony: Cleverness

“Why do you worry, brother? You have the quickest mind in all of Asgard. I have faith that if anyone could solve this puzzle, it would be you.”

Thor was the quintessential extrovert, Tony thought. The big guy could make himself at home anywhere, and he loved to know everything and everyone. Sometimes Thor struck him as a genuine example of a leader who really did like the baby kissing, hand shaking, and speech making. Thor would make a good politician once he got back to Asgard and took up the throne. Good for the big guy, but Tony could really do without the tree trimmings right now.

He watched as Thor examined the whirling bot with intense curiosity, big hands moving over the metal rods and thickly tangled wiring. Well, it was only fair, Tony supposed. Dummy was Steve's favorite, God alone knew why. And Natasha and Phil both genuinely appreciated Jarvis for his calmness and efficiency. And Bruce had always been partial to You ever since the little bot handed The Hulk a bushel of oranges after a particularly strenuous battle.

Yeah, it was great that Thor and Butterfingers got along. But now to get Thor back on track...

Thor laughed loudly again, as he patted Butterfingers fondly on the head. “What a wonderful name! Butterfingers! I tried some of those sweetmeats with Jane last month on our date. In fact, I believe she gave me a bag of them to bring with me. Would you like to try one?”

“No...thanks, Thor,” Tony said a bit wearily. “So, glad you're getting along with Butterfingers, but the hammer?” He gestured towards the scale that he'd been not so subtly pushing Thor towards since the demigod had obligingly shown up at the lab with the hammer so that Tony could do some research.

Thor beamed. “Of course—oh, there are more!” He tossed the hammer several feet through the air towards Tony, and Tony flinched, expecting the hammer to smash into him, but it ended up thudding lightly onto the exact middle of the scale.

“Huh,” Tony murmured with intrigued surprise when he found out how much the hammer weighed; it was surprisingly light and graceful for its power.

He was so preoccupied with revising his estimates that he barely heard Thor's loud praise as he familiarized himself with You and Dummy. “Your metal helpers are so helpful, so amiable. And you created all three of them. You are a clever man, my friend! You have my admiration.”

“Thanks,” Tony said, not really listening, as Thor continued to frolic with his bots in the background.

So tomorrow rather came as a surprise.

 

“Sir,” Jarvis interrupted Tony's lone breakfast. “The house is being invaded.”

“Seriously?” Tony tipped back his sunglasses. “Who's going to try and get in our crib?”

“The demigod Loki,” came the succinct answer.

Tony scrambled to his feet, almost upsetting his cup of freshly brewed coffee. What a time for everyone else to be out.

“Where?” he demanded, pulling on the bracelets.

“In the lab, sir. I believe Loki is having an altercation with Butterfingers.”

Tony burst right into the lab, repulsors fully powered and ready to fire. Loki snarled at his bot again and then whirled on Tony. “Your metal servants are insignificant and brainless.”

“We just kicked your ass a few months ago,” Tony snapped. “Now let go of Butterfingers, or we'll see how much damage my new repulsors will do to you, now that you're not so high and mighty over us puny humans.”

Loki raised a hand angrily, but only small sparks came from his fingertips. He let out an immensely frustrated cry and disappeared—but not before throwing Butterfingers to the floor.

“Aw, kiddo,” Tony said to his bot, picking it up tenderly. “I'll fix that wire and straighten out that dangling piece. And next time I see him, I'll be the one to make sure Loki meets the floor.”

 

Thor and Clint: Observation

“I grudgingly admit, brother, your eyes are better than mine. Satisfied? Now tell me what you see.”

Clint thanked his lucky stars that Phil and Natasha were both back at Shields Headquarters, getting ahead on plans for the next mission. Being late, they were safe with the civilians on the other side of the freaky web of thin, invisible wires that seemed as sharply honed as Natasha's knives.

“Damn it!” Tony shouted, and Clint turned to his left, where he saw Tony stopping abruptly a few feet away, hands held tightly to his body. “That was too close. Update, folks: these wires can cut through inch-thick titanium. I think I'll have to stay put for now.”

“Can you use your repulsors or the unibeam?” Steve asked nearby, voice tight with pain.

“They got cut off,” Tony explained tersely before sharpening his tone. “What are you doing, Cap?”

“A bunch of the wires fell on me, and I'm caught up. It hurts like hell when I move,” Steve grunted again before huffing out a frustrated breath.

Clint pictured Steve struggling, getting his skin ripped open, and then healing in seconds before trying it again. Like a man suffering the punishment of a thousand sword cuts. Ugh.

“Jeezus, Cap. Stop that.” Clint wanted to hurl, but a deafening bellow from his far right almost threw him off his feet.

“I wonder if the wires bother The Hulk,” Tony brightened. “Maybe his skin is thick enough to withstand them. Maybe it feels like grass. Hey, big guy! Help a buddy out?”

The angry noises grew exponentially louder until strange whistling sounds started to join in the din, and then an intuitive dread crawled up Clint's spine. “Guys...I don't think we want The Hulk hurrying over here.”

“....Oh, crap!” Tony shouted, quickly reaching the same conclusion. Clint winced from the feedback buzz, as Tony tapped on his earpiece, raising the audio level on his microphone. “Whoa, Hulk! Stop right there! We don't want small bits of those wires flying everywhere, okay? We have soft tender skin.”

“Hulk stop!” came the response, and a loud crunching noise as The Hulk apparently sat down on an abandoned car while waiting for the others to come to a consensus.

“Where's Thor?” Steve asked suddenly. “Wasn't he on one of the buildings?”

“Good question,” Clint narrowed his eyes so that he could see past the glare of the late afternoon sun.

Right on time, Thor's blond head popped up from the nearest roof. “My friends, I have found you!” The rest of Thor emerged until he stood fully upright on the roof edge, Mjölnir still in his grasp. “Thankfully, Mjölnir seems immune to these terrible hairs,” Thor announced.

“Ha—no. Just, no.” Clint refused to ask. He was going to stick with the need-to-know basis for this one.

Thor looked down at them mournfully. “I'm afraid that I am not much use up here. Should I attempt to destroy the hairs, I would likely harm one of you as well.”

“You have good control, Thor,” Tony agreed, “But we can't have you breaking the wires around us. Steve's already in bad condition.”

Thor's outline wavered a bit in Clint's eyes as he nodded slowly in displeased agreement with Tony's words. “It is indeed troublesome that I cannot see the beast's hairs.”

“Maybe we can coat them in something,” Tony suggested half-heartedly. “I can discharge some oil from the suit.”

“Won't work,” Steve breathed out. “I must have bled all over them, but I'm not seeing anything; I could try spit or something, but I doubt it'd work.”

During the discussion, Clint looked desperately around for something liquid, but nothing came to mind. He turned back to Thor and squinted up again past the sunlight. Once again, Thor looked hazy and covered in glints of light.

Hmm. Clint tilted his head at various angles, and yeah, he wasn't imagining it. Those glints were coming from more than just Thor's flowing Pantene hair. He surveyed the whole area: the bits of light were actually everywhere, just hard to capture. They flickered in and out of his view.

Clint kept his head in the best position and called to the others. “Hey, can you guys try looking at an angle? Anybody see the light reflecting from the wires?”

After a long pause, “No,” Tony said, disgruntled. “I'm getting a crick in my neck, and I still see nothing.” Thor and Steve echoed his response.

“We shall rely on your keen eyes, then,” Thor told Clint gravely. He hefted Mjölnir determinedly, and when Clint was sure of a wire far enough away for a practice test, Thor threw the hammer surely, and they heard the snap and twang of success.

Clint and Thor worked in smooth unison as Tony calculated the angle at which Thor should throw the hammer so that the resulting shards would land harmlessly in spots empty of Avengers. Finally, the area was mostly cleared of wires, and Thor delicately used the shaft of Mjölnir to lift the remaining wires off Steve, who quickly regained his color but swept a cautious, flinching hand over his own chest and arms.

“Excellent work, my friend!” Thor patted Clint on the shoulder. “Your eyes are a marvel! To be able to see the hairs of a Ginnungagap manticore is a highly prized gift in Asgard.”

“I think I need more practice, but hey, that's pretty cool,” said Clint, feeling a bit perky despite the awful day.

 

“Holy Mother of—!” Clint shouted at the entrance of the archery range.

His voice echoed through the empty room as he looked disbelievingly from one end to the next. Each target was up and completely filled with arrows that circled concentrically. Even the optional targets that had to be deliberately lowered from the ceiling or activated from under the floor were up and completely used up.

Clint rubbed a hand over his face and then looked again, but the scene didn't change. He walked to the nearest target and started to yank the arrows out. Tried to, anyway. The arrow didn't move a millimeter no matter how long or hard Clint tugged.

Eventually, he sat back on his heels, hands red and chaffed from the friction and blisters welling up on thumb and pinky.

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself and the green eyes glowing behind him unawares. “Looks like Phil and Tony aren't the only ones in his crosshairs. Wait 'til I get a hold of him.

 

Thor and Natasha: Wit

“Come now, it's only one of Loki's jokes! My brother enjoys his games, and you must admit that they are funny. Most of the time. Sometimes.”

Sometimes all the super villains around gave New York a bad name. Not because the city seemed so dangerous, but because most of the villains seemed to have deep-seated mommy and daddy issues. Like the current one. Titan. Or Tighten. The super villain himself didn't seem too certain which it was supposed to be. And that was apparently part of his problem.

Tighten blasted more chunks off the red brick apartment buildings, as he continued to rant about his deadbeat dad. “And then he didn't care about lying to Space Mom! Like I didn't have enough parental problems with my Earth parents!”

“You're the major philanthropist, Tony,” Natasha muttered. “How about shelling out for the mental health sector?”

Steve shook his head at them. “No, Tony should donate to marriage counseling. I can't believe how much the divorce rates have risen. All those problems from having broken homes.”

“How does such a full grown man still fail to see eye to eye with his father?” Thor demanded, swinging Mjölnir's back and forth, waiting to see if he should take Tighten out. The others coughed awkwardly, as they decided collectively not to enlighten Thor to the irony of his statement. But still he caught on, and he smiled good-naturedly.

Bruce and Phil continued to evacuate the civilians just in case the fight with Tighten turned sour, but the flow of people was quickly lessening, and they too were eying Tighten with growing impatience. It was going to be happy hour soon at Hippy Bill's, and that bar got crowded fast on Fridays, which had been designated Team Night. Soon Phil made a small gesture at Clint, and the archer prepared his bow.

“This one's mine, guys,” he drawled as he nocked his arrow and aimed for the super villain's dominant hand.

“And then he stole my girl! She was going to go out with me sooner or later, I knew it!” Tighten continued with his hysterical monologue. “Always acting too good for me. That bitch was mine!” Tighten concluded.

"Oh, you should not have said that,” Tony tsked as Natasha's face darkened to an ugly red. She elbowed Clint out of the way and a split second later, Tighten was yowling like a scalded cat and clutching at his lower thigh.

Clint arched an eyebrow at her. “That was lower than I expected.”

Natasha ignored him in favor of grabbing Tighten by his collar like a rowdy pup and staring him dead in the eyes. “What did I just do?” she asked calmly.

Tighten stopped whimpering long enough to stutter, “Kni-knife me in the thigh?”

She nodded. “And what did you just learn?”

“Nuh-not to say that word again?”

“Good.” Natasha dropped him onto the street. “Because if I hear you use that word again, I'll knife you in the thigh again, and your balls will shrink to the size of raisins from the shock. Get me?”

Tighten looked absolutely horrified, clutching at his crotch. “Wha—how?”

Thor flew down to join them and added his two cents, nodding wisely. “Aye, it's true. Many Asgardian warriors whose bravery are known and told far and wide suffer from that unfortunate affliction. They have suffered such wounds that they are unable to ever enjoy companionship.”

“Ever?” Tighten's voice was now a whisper, and at Thor and Natasha's mutual nods, he slowly staggered away with eyes the size of dinner plates.

When Tighten was out of earshot, Thor and Natasha looked at each other before breaking into uproarious laughter.

Steve looked disapproving as he and the others gathered around. “Jeez, you all, that was just awful. Can you believe that?”

Before anyone could say anything, he continued on, shaking his head. “What happened to the sex ed for this generation?”

 

Natasha's eyes snapped open at the loud knocking on her door. She slipped a knife from under her pillow and loosened the wire bracelet around her left wrist.

She yanked open the door to be confronted with Thor's sheepish face. “I apologize, Natasha,” he said striding quickly past her to the bathroom.

Before she could say anything, feeling rather bemused at the interruption, he emerged carrying her bottle of shampoo. Thor cleared his throat uncomfortably and handed her a brand new bottle. “I'm afraid that your old shampoo is...contaminated. An unwelcome token from Loki. He committed a similar crime against my friend, Sif. Her hair...well.”

Natasha shook her head tiredly. “I won't ask.”

Thor nodded and sighed thunderously. “I will leave you to your rest. Be assured that I will have strong words with Loki once I find him.”

 

Thor and Bruce: Comfort

“I'm not insensitive, little brother, but why do his words so anger you? No, no, I'm not taking his side. Ah, say, how about a story to while away your foul mood? A story about an incredible magician named...Koli."

Bruce pursed his lips in deep irritation as the civilian he'd just saved ran away screaming about a green Bigfoot.

“I'm really not that hairy, and I'd like it if they weren't so obsessed with the color.” His voice sounded deeper, and he seemed on the verge of submitting to his anger and falling back into his transformed state.

“Folks are prejudiced everywhere,” Steve said sympathetically.

Tony hovered nearby, tapping away at his phone. “Say the word, buddy, and he and I can have a little talk.”

At the others' disbelieving looks, he added defensively, “What, you think Iron Man can't be intimidating?”

The silence grew, and Tony gawked unbecomingly before pointing a finger at Steve. “Whoa, what about Red, White, and Blue over there? Who's going to think Captain America would ever put the beat down on someone?”

“No one,” Natasha tossed in bluntly. “That's why it would scare the hell out of them.”

Pause. “Good point, good point.”

“Green is a beautiful color,” Thor reassured Bruce. “It is the color of life. The apple trees of the renowned Idun have apples the color of molten gold and broad leaves the color of emeralds.”

Thor continued to wax poetic as Bruce's expression gradually changed from irritated to absorbed, and the sallow color of his face slowly regained its pinkish tones. “Once those leaves saved the life of my friend, the valiant, somber Hogun of the Warriors Three! I tell you this tale now exactly as he told me on a dreary night by a campfire in the forest. Years earlier, Hogun had been tasked with the quest of defeating the dragon Fafnir, who sought to massacre the good people of Birka.”

“Was the dragon green?” Someone whispered, unable to help himself.

“Shh!”

“Ow!”

Thor thundered the rest of the story, really getting into it himself, his arms making grandiose gestures that nearly gave Steve a wallop. “In the heat of battle, Hogun struck blow after blow, and Fafnir eventually fell back in submission. But hold! Hogun did not yet achieve victory, for Fafnir managed to deal a glancing blow to his right arm, which commonly held his beloved mace, the greatest of weapons he had mastered.”

Thor paused for a bit, allowing the drama to build, and then his voice turned soft. “When Hogun returned to Asgard, in his weariness, he rested in the shade of Idun's beloved trees, and as the leaves fell gently onto his limbs, Hogun realized that his grievous wound was healing. Forever after, he told me, green has brought peaceful, healthful thoughts to him.”

“The end!” Thor shouted, a bit incongruously, apparently taking a cue from all the Earth fairy tales that he was reading.

“Wow,” Bruce said, blinking away tears. “That was a great story. I really want to meet that friend of yours.”

“And so you shall,” Thor said grandly, slinging an arm around Bruce and guiding the other man away.

Left behind, the others looked rather bemused. “That progression of events really did not make sense,” Clint blurted, thankfully out of earshot of Bruce.

“Does it matter?” Phil asked drily, materializing next to him and handing out ice packs and wet cloths.

“Enough said,” Tony agreed, raking his fingers through his sweaty hair.

 

The next day Bruce just looked at his laundry. Socks, underwear, shirts, pants, pillow case. Everything.

Every. Thing.

“What the hell?” he sounded out slowly, voice quickly growing guttural and body rapidly expanding through the ceiling.

The others came running at the large crunch, followed by the equally large crash.

Hours later, after the firemen had left, Phil turned to Bruce with a deadpan look. “Not a fan of pink then, Dr. Banner?”

Bruce shrugged sheepishly in his shock blanket. “I actually don't care what colors I wear, but I guess The Hulk finds it distasteful."

"He hates pink?" Steve asked, confused. "But pink's so cheerful."

"I don't think The Hulk hates the color exactly," Bruce demurred, embarrassed. “We just had this really bad experience with an Easter Bunny rabbit last year.”

At the interested looks from everyone, he blushed an even deeper red and scrubbed at the back of his neck. “It was, well, pink. And really irritating. And we are done talking about it.”

“Loki is a pain in the backside,” Clint grumbled. “How are we going to do laundry until the new machine's delivered?”

Tony stared blankly. “You can give your laundry to the housekeeper, like you—haven't. Wait, you were doing your own laundry. All of you?” He looked incredulous and not a little bit horrified.

“I'm used to it,” Steve shrugged.

“Privacy,” Clint and Natasha said together.

“I was on the run,” Bruce explained. “I used to wash my clothes in the motel bathtub. Having a machine is a luxury item for me.” He looked sadly at the washer remains.

“I do give my laundry to Mrs. Gregory,” Phil reassured Tony. “And I use the dry clean service that comes around too.”

Thor looked even blanker than Tony. “For this laundry, you must reuse clothing?” He shrugged a bit. “I have not run out yet.”

“You all—” Tony shook his head vigorously. “No, never mind, not getting sidetracked. The point is that Loki is being his psychotic Avenger-harassing self. Who hasn't he pissed off lately?”

Thor bowed his head apologetically. “I believe that I shall return to Asgard and consult my lady mother and Heimdall. Limited though his powers be, it appears Loki has been rather vindictive, and he is quite creative in such a mood. We shall devise a method of tracking him.”

 

Thor and Steve: Drinking

“Why do you do this, Loki? We are brothers!”

Steve really wished that the serum hadn't given him a better memory. He wouldn't go so far as to call it eidetic, but he couldn't seem to forget any dates. When he woke up in the morning and realized it was the day of Bucky's death, he'd had to drag himself out of bed and go through the motions.

The Tower was unusually quiet—and the somber atmosphere didn't help. Steve checked the schedule: Clint and Natasha had training at Shields Headquarters; Tony had a board meeting; Thor and Banner were probably in their rooms. He thought briefly about visiting one of the two, but decided that he wasn't good enough company.

Drawing didn't make him feel much better. And after accidentally drawing yet another charcoal rendition of Bucky falling to the chasm, Steve carefully and calmly put away his art supplies before he snapped and threw them across the room.

He was sitting in the living room in the dark when Thor bounded down the stairs and found him. “Steve,” Thor greeted him, looking curious. “Do the lights not work? Tony said that we could always contact something called PG&E and threaten their lives on such an occasion.”

Steve smiled wanly. “I was in the mood for sitting in the dark, I guess.”

Thor looked at him with uncharacteristic perceptiveness. “Do your memories trouble you? I have heard from the others that you come from a time long past.”

“I lost my best friend, Bucky, today forty years ago,” Steve said tiredly.

Thor was quiet for a moment before he placed a warm hand on Steve's shoulder. “I grieve with you, Steve. Your friend—I assume he was a great warrior, like yourself?” At Steve's mute nod, Thor strode from the room and returned a few minutes later with an armful of Tony's best bottles of brandy.

He held out a bottle to Steve. “We will drink to your friend. May Bucky feel at peace in the afterlife.”

Steve was about to object that he couldn't get drunk, but he figured the ceremony would be nice enough. The brandy burned nicely past his tongue, down his throat, and into his stomach. Thor kept handing him bottle after bottle, while keeping up with the drinking himself, still looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after the third bottle. And somehow it became a competition.

By the end, they were surveying the twenty bottles or so littering the floor at their feet, and Steve felt a bit guilty that they'd as good as wasted Tony's alcohol. Tony always thought the main point was to get drunk. Steve couldn't do that, and neither could Thor, it looked like. Thor boomed out one of his laughs and slapped Steve across the shoulders companionably.

“Ah, I have met my match. Never did I meet a man who did not fall to the ground in a stupor after the sixth bottle. We are brothers by different mothers, my friend!” The sudden pop of a light fixture blowing out made them jump, and Steve's latest bottle fell to the floor in a crash.

Steve was a bit preoccupied with cleaning up the broken glass, but he flashed Thor a genuine smile for the sentiment and for the day's distraction. He had weathered this anniversary pretty well, and hopefully, the others would go as smoothly. Today hadn't been as bad as he'd feared.

Too bad he couldn't say the same for tomorrow.

 

Steve was coming back from his weekly volunteer work at the animal shelter when he heard the commotion coming from Main Street. He didn't have his shield with him, but he improvised by grabbing a sewer cover from the street. He would have preferred a trash can lid, but the twenty-first century liked its heavy plastic bins with the openings cut out from the tops.

Steve ran to the corner and was promptly nailed by a thick foam doughnut his size. He pushed his way out of it easily and stood there, feeling completely baffled at the otherwise peaceful street. Where had the screams come from? Were they more of Loki's tricks?

Steve listened alertly for a few minutes and was about to head home, ill at ease that he may be missing something, when he heard the panicked yell again. He ran to the origin of the sound and arrived in time to size up the situation and clamber rapidly up a fire escape ladder and toss himself off.

Just in time to catch and crumple up the metal scaffolding about to hit the pedestrians on the sidewalk, despite the alarm of the construction workers overhead atop the new skyscraper.

Steve smiled mechanically as he received tearful thanks and enthusiastic cheers from all the New Yorkers who'd witnessed the rescue. Inside he was boiling. Thor wasn't the only one who was going to have “words” with Loki.

 

Just Thor: Obtuseness

“Loki, what childishness is this?” Thor crossed his arms and stared Loki down, while the man continued to struggle against his restraints and hiss a variety of unpleasantries that didn't really answer Thor's question. They were more heartfelt suggestions, like “Go boil your head, Thor!”

The Avengers crowded around Thor, and, minds full of the past several months' worth of tricks, each of them returned Loki's glare, Steve's the fiercest.

“I know you have a grudge against us, but what you did yesterday could have cost several innocent lives,” Steve said coldly.

“Yeah, pick on folks who can fight back,” Clint crossed his arms threateningly, as Natasha thumbed her knife hilt. Phil and Bruce both regarded Loki with deceptively mild expressions that complemented the ominous look in their eyes.

Thor gripped Loki's shoulders, and his fury melted into sadness. “Loki, why do you not speak sense? Tell me: why have you continually attacked my friends? What wrongs have they done that you should harass them so? If you must, direct your anger towards me!”

Loki scowled deeply at Thor. “Oh, trust me, brother, I will,” he said silkily. A large puff of smoke later, Loki was still entangled in his ropes, but he was now smiling smugly, eyes gleaming sharply green.

Frowning, Thor rubbed at his itchy forehead. The others drew back in consternation before leaning back in to see.

“I-D-I-O-T,” Natasha sounded out the letters written in ornamental cursive.

“Well, it's not that legible, and it's kind of small,” Tony said bracingly, features a bit too casual as he lied.

Thor just sighed.

 

End Note: Just in case it wasn't clear, I made up those quotes about Thor and Loki's childhood. At some point, when I finish my other fanfiction, I'll come back to this one and write a sort of prequel where I provide the context for those quotes. Yeah, I'll stick that on the to-do list.


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